


ink the lavender skies

by pxraxise



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Deal with a Devil, Depression, F/M, Gen, How Do I Tag, Loss, Murder-Suicide, Past Character Death, Rumination, Supernatural Elements, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge Era, heavy simping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29575599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxraxise/pseuds/pxraxise
Summary: nine hundred and ninety-nine, one left to go.
Relationships: Demolition Lovers - Relationship, The Groom/The Bride
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	ink the lavender skies

**Author's Note:**

> based on the three cheers album story combined with my own bullshit
> 
> tw: suicide and really heavy thoughts

It was a cold, cold Friday night for Daniel.

Cold, almost on some kind of cue, akin to a cue by some director in the background 

It wasn’t like he didn’t know who the director was.

It was the same director who he sold his soul to.

  
He remembered reading biblical scripture about Satan’s way with words.

Never came to him that he’d experience it.

  
It was stupid when he thought back on it those years back.

The deal was made in a haze that only death gave someone.

But he did it anyway, not like he really had a choice in the matter. 

  
Maybe he was still in that haze.

He has a very good suspicion on what the outcome is, in regard to the number he was meant to fill out.

Maybe he’d just get dragged down anyway.

He felt like a puppet on strings, and that’s because he was. 

The reality of it didn't make him break out of a business-like apathy.

Not anymore, not like it used to.

Because it is what it is.

  
And ‘it’ is a cage of which he locked himself in, and it is Satan who led him to the cell.

Some would argue what he did was for the right thing, for the sake of love.

  
Or, maybe if any of this was really justifiable and this was just another mass murderer.

He doesn’t know if either would be right.

But when you’ve spent the better half of your resurrected life serving to kill,

all you had was your thoughts, and in his case, the Devil. 

It wasn’t the best thing he had to busy himself with.

It still wasn’t.

If it wasn’t booze and saying things he’d probably not have said when he was still a normal man, gambling, or getting high, it was his habit of rumination. 

This was the last man, and even with all of his doubt and thought on it, he’d come much too far.

  
He had to do it.

  
He knew all the drills, about nine hundred and ninety-nine times over at least.

  
He also knew that with the Devil’s help, the FBI has been poor with management in the case, unfortunate in regard to the most sinister serial killer known to modern day.

And that the criminal underworld in reality absolutely shit on whatever he’d seen from Hollywood’s portrayal of it, in his experience.

  
This poor soul was Keegan Wade, and he’d been on the list since two weeks back.

It gave Daniel a twinge of amusement, as he flashed his mind through the laundry list Satan gave him.

He briefly wondered if Keegan knew what was to happen.

If he knew how great his legacy will be, to give Daniel his wife back.

The best stepping stone anyone could be.

The snowy day helped out with visibility for the time it lasted.

The kevlar weighed him down a bit, but that was a small price to pay for her.

The cool tangibility of polymer and steel against his jeans was a cathartic sensation nowadays.

  
This was the day, and as he approached this man’s abode in the dead of night, he felt tired.

He knew his reward, and he knew what to expect once this man’s heart was to stop beating.

But the Devil is a capricious woman, and the amount of people killed could amount to nothing tonight.

He risked so much, he could not afford to fail.

As he approached ever closer, the excitement and adrenaline took him into the mindset he has to be in for the prospect.

  
He carelessly busted the window of what looked to be a kitchen with a pistol whip, he vaulted over a marble counter, his black boots hitting the floor with a great thud.

Suffice he was right. 

  
The leftover glass cut into his gloved hand as he leaned against the island, but that mattered little.

All he saw was his wife now.

Daniel stalked the halls through the small but exquisite look of the home in search of the bedroom, or wherever he could get this done, he heard her voice in his ear.

It enticed, spurred him on, to how close he was to the reward.

Her coo of the kill that was so tantalizingly close to him.

The trophy he would earn, if to even catch a mirage of her.

Just a door away. 

  
Out his obstacle came from his bedroom with a weapon of his own, a knife of 6 inches.

He figured that it’d be more difficult, hard, to achieve his goal given the look of the home.

Not like Daniel was one to complain, but still.

He aimed with the precision you could only get by doing this almost a thousand times.

Soon to be a thousand.

  
His target charged, going zig-zag to try and throw his aim.  
3 shots rang out, and all was well, a blood-covered smile spread across his face. 

“You’ve actually done it.”

An ethereal, honey-like voice pierced through the quiet, much like the gun did earlier.

He nodded wordlessly to his contractor and owner of his soul.

“Well,” She gave a slight smirk.

Wait, what was that _well_ for?

Or that smirk?

A brooding dread sunk into his chest.

  
Was he right all along?

  
“You see, we kind of ran into a paradox regarding the deal.

You might have done as I have wished, but in your own little fantasy, became an evil soul yourself.”

He fucking called it. 

The Devil is definitely a liar, it wasn't a thousand.

It was a thousand and one.

“You’ll meet her, but it’s gotta start with your feet in the grave once more.”

She gestured a gun in her mouth with her fingers, flicked her thumb, and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

She was probably lying about this too.

But what other chance did he have?

He did as gestured by the ethereal being, his mind pondered as his finger lied on the trigger.

Would his wife still love him? 

Would he still be the man she knew?

He supposed he would have to find out.

If only, if only she hadn’t picked his soul up after the gunfight.

He painted the ceiling with a resounding bang, and she looked on with satisfaction.

  
What a fucking nutjob that dude was, she thought to herself.

But then it dawned on her, an annoying realization.

  
“Damn, I just set myself for yet another scolding by her.” 

She groaned, but decided these things happen when they do.


End file.
